


SPIDER DOGS! a tale of camping, hypothermia, and nudity

by inkiestdawn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hella funny, Light Bondage, Mild Kink, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut, Swearing, campfire and mystery meat, sex in a tent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3544190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkiestdawn/pseuds/inkiestdawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hunt with the Winchester brothers and Castiel, you crash at a campsite for the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SPIDER DOGS! a tale of camping, hypothermia, and nudity

“Sweet fuck,” you scream, kicking at a broken tent pole, “this is fucking ridiculous.”

Dean chuckles, “No one ever brought you camping as a kid?”

Muscles tight, you stand rigidly and glare at him across the campfire.

“I grew up in a shack in the fucking bush, why the hell would I want to move ten feet from my bed to sleep on the cold, hard ground outside?”

Dean shrugs, grinning.

“Someone’s testy,” Sam says, walking out of the forest and into the glow of the fire with an armful of dry wood.

“She doesn’t seem to like camping Sam,” Cas says. He’s sitting on a stump staring into the flames.

“Look, we have two other tents and we can share,” Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows, “I like to cuddle and it’s gonna be pretty cold tonight.”

Scowling at him, you stalk off into the bush.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Dean calls out.

“I have to piss, leave me alone,” you yell back, trying to make your way carefully through the underbrush.

It’s been a long hunt and you’re tired, dirty, sore, and incredibly cranky. The stitches in a nasty gash on your arm pull and ache. You press gingerly at the edges, hoping it’s not getting infected.

On any other given day you would have felt the ground soften beneath your boots and picked up the scent of the lake but tired and distracted as you were, you slip on a rock and fall right in, landing hard on your ass in about two feet of water.

“Goddamnit!”

The laughter from the boys only makes your mood darker. It takes a hell of a lot to make you cry and you can’t really remember the last time you bawled but as your boots fill with water and slip on the slick rocks as you try to stand, you let out a frustrated whimper.

The stiches in your arm pull painfully and you feel a gush of fresh blood trickle down your sleeve.

“Son of a bitch,” you mutter, your voice thick.

“Shit,” you hear Dean hiss and the crunch of his boots as he hurries towards you, “Here, let me help.”

He reaches out and grabs your good arm, pulling you close. You slip again and would have fallen if Dean hadn’t caught you and hauled you into his arms.

“Oh hell no,” you sniffle, pushing at his chest and struggling to put your feet down.

“Damn it Y/N, quit squirming. I’m just trying to get you…” he grunts and swears as your hip grinds into his crotch, “I’m just trying to get out of the water.”

He lets go, dropping you. You land on your feet, unsteady, and Dean reaches out, backing up quickly when he catches your glare. He dusts himself off, his flannel shirt wet and muddy now, and fingers a sticky patch of blood.

“Your arm?” he asks, frowning at you.

“I’m fine,” you wave him off, “I just…let me pee in peace.”

The wind is harsher and colder near the water and it cuts through you, stinging where your clothes are soaked. You shiver and turn away from Dean, walking more carefully now.

“There isn’t much point in me wandering around the forest for a private spot if you’re going to follow me,” you call back to him.

“Yeah well, when you’re done wandering, let me know and I’ll turn my back. I’m not leaving.”

You face him and unbutton your jeans, shouting, “Fine.”

Not taking your eyes off his face, you tug at your wet pants. Dean turns around.

You shiver a lot and it’s hard to move the wet fabric but you manage not to pee on yourself. Truth is, you are comfortable in the woods but your mood just won’t lift. It was a rough hunt and things didn’t go very smoothly.

It takes longer than you like to pull your pants back up and you’re shivering almost uncontrollably by the time you start back towards the camp site.

Dean catches up, walking beside you.

The fire is starting to throw off more heat in the clearing and you approach, your body trembling.

“You need to get those wet clothes off,” Sam says, pushing a small log around with a stick making sparks fly.

“Cas,” Dean asks, reaching out to gingerly hold up your wounded arm, “can you take are of this?”

Castiel gets up, nodding solemnly, “You should have let me take care of it before,” he says softly.

You try to pull your arm away but the angel has a firm grasp on your wrist, “You need the juice and I can take care of myself.”

There’s a bright flash of light and the painful throb in your arm disappears.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“It’s my pleasure,” Castiel says, “you should take those clothes off and join us by the fire. Sam is going to show us how to make something called a spider dog. Personally, I don’t see the appeal of consuming arachnids or canines but I am curious.”

You stare at him for a solid five seconds, mouth gaping, until your teeth start to chatter.

“Uh, thanks,” you say, turning to pack up the tent you destroyed.

“I’ll do that,” Sam says, “you go change,” he gestures to a small blue tent pitched behind the Impala.

“Thanks.”

Grabbing your pack, you unzip the flap and sit down inside the tent, dangling your legs out to take your soaking boots off. You peel off your socks, tossing them onto a log by the fire- they land in the dirt- and duck your head when Dean grabs your boots and places them by the flames to dry out.

“Pass me your clothes when you’re done,” he says.

Turning, you crawl into the tent, body racked by shivers and teeth chattering,

“Goddamn it,” you murmur, pulling off your jacket, shirt and bra and placing them near the tent flap. You lay back and struggle with your pants and underwear, shivering even harder.

Your hands shake as you open your pack and take out the only clothes you have left, a pair on long johns and a hoodie. You slip them on, moving faster when you hear someone unzipping the flap.

A hand reaches in followed by Dean saying, “Just gonna grab your clothes and hang them by the fire.”

You lunge forward to grab your underwear and bra but he’s already balled everything up and taken the pile out.

“Shit,” you hiss, a bit too cold to run out after him but mortified nonetheless.

“Oh,” you hear Cas exclaim, “I have had a hot dog before. Y/N,” he calls out, “it’s not an actual spider, it’s a hot dog.”

Sam laughs.

Still cold, you crawl to the back of the tent where the sleeping bags were tossed in. You grab one and roll it out, wriggling inside as quickly as you can.

Reaching out, you bring your pack closer and hunt for your tuque, glad that you didn’t get your hair wet. You tuck your pack into the hood of the sleeping bag as a make shift pillow. The sleeping bag is huge, you think to yourself, must be Sam’s.

“Hey Y/N?” Dean’s voice calls out, “you want a hot chocolate?”

“P…please,” you say.

You can hear the boys talking as you tuck your hands between your thighs to warm them up.

A few moments later, Dean lets himself in the tent and crawls over, carefully holding out a travel mug. He kneels by you, frowning as you sit up, still shivering violently.

“You’re gonna get hypothermia,” he says, handing you the mug and eyeing you.

“I…I’m ff..fine,” you chatter, lifting the mug to your lips and spilling cocoa over the edge before getting a sip and burning your lips.

“Y/N,” Cas yells, poking his head inside the tent. He’s holding something out to you, grinning, “look at this!” He has a hot dog, the ends cut and curled from the heat of the fire, on a stick. “Who knew processed meat could be so delightful.” He takes a bite, “Dean says it’s made of lips and assholes but,” he chews thoughtfully, “whatever it is, it’s delicious.”

You sputter a laugh, spilling more cocoa. Dean reaches out and takes the mug from you.

“S..S..Since when…d..do you cc..care about what’s in j..jjunk food?” you ask Dean.

He shrugs, watching Cas eat the spider dog, “I’m more of a burger man myself, doll.”

He pushes Cas out of the tent, muttering something about letting the cold in. You can’t imagine it making much difference.

“Here,” Dean holds the mug out carefully. The contents are steaming and smell wonderfully of chocolate and sugar, “careful,” he says as he places it to your lips. You take a sip, the liquid burning, and blow against the surface before trying again. The next sip is wonderfully warm and delicious.

“Thanks,” you say, sitting back and reaching for the mug.

Dean reaches for the second sleeping bag and rolls it out beside you. He takes off his boots and tosses them out of the tent. Noticing you watching him, he grins, “You can watch me undress if you like. I like it when people watch.”

He winks.

With a groan and an eye roll, you turn around and take another sip of cocoa. You can’t help but notice the cold seeping in from the ground but don’t want to complain any more.

There’s a lot of rustling and a grunt behind you as Dean strips down and settles into his sleeping bag. You hear Sam tell Cas that he’s going to go to bed.

Not wanting to have to brave the chill outside to pee later on, you reluctantly shimmy to the front of the tent and place the mug outside, zipping the flap up quickly and settling back down, your back to Dean.

“All decent baby,” he says, “how are you doing?”

“Fine,” you whisper, rolling onto your back. Your head swims with exhaustion and in a few moments, you’re asleep.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N?” a voice calling your name cuts through the heavy haze of sleep and you blink slowly awake, your pupils dilating painfully wide when you sit up in the darkness. It takes you a moment to remember where you are. You shiver.

You turn to Dean, just able to make out his silhouette against the other side of the tent.

“What is it?” you whisper, shivering again.

“Your teeth are chattering, it’s keeping me awake.”

You snort but Dean reaches out, “We need to get you warmed up baby.”

You hear the rustle of his sleeping bag as he scoots closer. Dean wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. Your head swims with his scent as your face is pressed into his shoulder, the worn fabric of his t-shirt soft against your cheek.

“I don’t have any other clean clothes,” you say quietly.

Dean grunts and you hear the rasp of a zipper, feeling a cold rush of air as he opens your sleeping bag.

“Kind of counterproductive, don’t you think?” you say, shaking.

“Look, you’re getting into my sleeping bag with me and we’re going to use yours as an extra layer beneath us.”

You open your mouth to protest but Dean’s hand on your ass shuts you up. He slides his hand down to your thigh and pulls one leg into his sleeping bag. Your leg brushes against his and the warmth of his body halts any doubts you may have had.

You crawl in as Dean lays the second bag down and you both squirm on top of it. Your hand brushes accidentally across his hip and, with a fierce blush, you realize that he’s in his underwear.

Dean’s face is close to yours, his breath is in your hair and you can feel the rough stubble on his cheek. Realizing you lost something, you fumble around.

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“Lost my tuque,” you murmur, stopping the search when he pulls you deeper into the warmth of the sleeping bag.

“That’s better,” he says playfully. You can hear the smile in his voice.

You turn onto your side and feel Dean settle down behind you. You shift and your ass brushes against Dean’s crotch. He hisses in a sharp breath and you go still, heart pounding. You duck your head when you feel him try to inch back but not before you feel his cock hardening against you.

Warmth and moisture floods between your legs as the muscles in your stomach clench. You let out a shaky breath, carefully turning onto your back. You can feel Dean’s breath on your cheek. He clears his throat.

“This is surprisingly uncomfortable,” he murmurs.

You shift, sitting up, “Yeah, look, I can go back into my sleeping bag.”

Dean sits up, leaning his weight on his arm, he places his lips against your ear, surprising you.

“You’re probably right,” his voice is low and thick, “I don’t think I can sleep so close to you without…” he hesitates, “without being able to touch you, to fuck you.”

You feel his lips on your shoulder and stifle a moan. He reaches up and cups the side of your head, turning your face to his. His lips brush yours and you angle yourself for an incredibly soft, gentle kiss. Dean swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, sucking at it, and you open your mouth, sighing as he pushes against you, deepening the kiss.

His tongue enters your mouth and you moan, turning to kneel by him. He reaches around you, cupping and kneading your ass before running his hands down to spread your thighs and pull you onto his lap. You feel the hard length of his stiff cock against your pussy and wrap your arms around him, grinding your hips into his.

Dean groans and lifts you both as he moves onto his knees and turns to settle you down on your back.

He grinds his hips slowly into the tender, wet space between your legs. Still kissing, tongues exploring and moving against one another, Dean slips his hands under your sweater, sighing when he palms the cold, soft flesh of your breasts.

You arch your back, breaking the kiss, and bite your lip against another moan, conscious of the fact that there is no soundproofing in a tent.

Dean buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking, hands running down your ribs to hook into your leggings and pulling them down.

He sits back on his heels, tugging your bottoms off and tossing them aside. As he leans over you again, he cups the hot mound of your pussy, pressing his palm firmly against your clit as he slides a finger inside of you, gently massaging. You gasp and writhe, silently begging for more.

Dean spread his legs out, his knees on each side of your hips, closing your legs. You whimper softly as he leans close to whisper, “We’re doing this my way.”

He slides his finger out of you and grabs at the bottom hem of your hoodie, pulling it over your head in one quick motion. You settle back down against the ground, reaching out for him but he grabs your wrists in one hand, placing them above your head. Your chest arches and your nipples harden even more as they’re exposed to the cold air.

Above your head, you can hear Dean rummaging around in his pack with his free hand but it’s not until you feel plastic against your wrist that you realize what he’s doing. Panicked, you struggle against him but as he fastens the zip strip around your wrists, he whispers, “Trust me.”

There’s a faint click and the tent is bathed in a soft, white light.

Dean dips his head for a deep kiss, his eyes glassy with lust, and pulls away, pulling his shirt over his head. He gets up on his feet, hunched over under the low ceiling of the tent, and pulls off his boxers. You wriggle and whimper as his hard cock smacks against his stomach. It’s thick and larger than you had anticipated.

Dean lowers himself back down, his knees tight against your ribs. He’s sitting on your rib cage but careful not to settle his full weight down.

You watch as he strokes his cock a few times before inching forward and pressing it down on your breastbone. Holding his hard member down with his thumb, he roughly squeezes your breasts together and slowly pumps his hips. You close your eyes and moan, squeezing your thighs together and arching your hips, trying to rub against the ache.

Dean arches his back, moaning low. You can see the soft, pink head of his cock glistening with precum, slicking the path between your tits.

Dean stops and releases your breasts, stroking his cock a few more times as he watches you, his eyes filled with longing and lust. He leans over, asking, “Are you okay?”

You nod and wriggle beneath him, legs pinned and hands bound, “Fuck me Dean.”

He growls low and kisses you roughly. You can feel him settle his body over yours, the warmth and weight of him intoxicating.

“Fuck,” you hiss as he pulls away, looking down as he pushes his cock between your thighs.

Your legs pushed together by his knees, the head of his cock rubs roughly against your clit making you moan. Dean pulls out and inches back, lowering himself to stab his tongue into the tight spot his cock was in. He parts your folds and, gently, pulls the hood of your clit back, sucking against the hard nub. You jerk beneath him, trying to be silent but failing. He releases the tender flesh but continues to lick and suck, holding your hips down firmly with his hands.

Breath hot against your tender flesh, he says, “Tell me what you want baby.”

“Fuck me,” you moan, “please fuck me Dean.”

Dean moves over your body, kissing and nipping at your skin until he settles himself back over you. Reaching over your head, he pulls a foil packet out of his bag, tearing it open and easing the condom over his cock. Your heart pounds and your pussy aches as he strokes himself, watching you with a satisfied grin.

Finally, he lowers his hips, guiding himself between your legs and into your tight, hot pussy. He closes his eyes and groans as his cock enters you, the shaft rubbing roughly against your clit. Dean slides his cock slowly inside of you until his hips are resting on yours, only pulling out when he sees you nod. His cock stretches and fills you, the ache building as he pumps into you. He’s gentle at first, giving you time to adjust, but his pace quickly increases and his thrusts become harder and rougher.

The friction against your clit and the feeling of his cock make your head spin and the heavy pressure in your abdomen builds. As much as you can, you wriggle and pump your hips up, moaning as he lowers his head to nip at one hard nipple and turn to suckle at the other. You struggle against the strip binding your wrists, wanting to touch him, to pull him to you, but the plastic digs into your flesh.

Dean pants above you, kissing your shoulders and neck, nipping at your jaw and stealing quick kisses as his rhythm becomes erratic and he groans.

You arch your back as the pressure summits and the sensation bursts outwards from your core, pulsing through you, your pussy clenching against Dean’s hard cock. He twitches inside of you, burying his face into your neck to stifle his cry as he comes.

“Dean,” you moan, your orgasm sending wave after wave of pleasure through you until it subsides, leaving you feeling soft and warm.

Dean collapses on top of you, his chest heaving against yours. He lifts himself back enough to let you breathe and kisses you. When he pulls away, you arch up to kiss his neck and chest as he reaches over you. You hear a soft click and a tug against your wrists as he cuts the strip, his hands gently rubbing at the red marks.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling out of you slowly and settling down beside you. You stretch the gentle ache in your shoulders and nod.

“Very,” you murmur.

Dean takes off the condom, tying it off and tossing it by your clothes. His cock is soft, wet and warm against your leg.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. His skin is warm and you relax against him, muscles heavy, and eyelids drooping. You feel him place a kiss on your forehead, on one eyelid and then the next. Tilting your head up, you kiss his lips.


End file.
